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Welcome to Draven?s Crossing, where fantasies and nightmares walk among us?

Vampire Mayor Draven desires mortal Rose. Her rebuffs excite him. When she finally gives in to his advances, their coming together is explosive, and their passion is more than he could?ve anticipated.

But a serial killer divides his attention. Can he keep his town safe from this mysterious menace and convince Rose that they belong together despite her reservations?

As a new resident of Draven’s Crossing, all Rose wants to do is her job. Draven could be a distraction she can’t afford, but she can’t ignore him or her arousal.

Excerpt:

“Yes. Drink me.” Her pussy rippled around his cock as she rocked her hips. Desire seared through her veins as the heat inside of her increased. She moaned, pressing her throat closer to his lips. “Please,” she pleaded. “Want it.”

Every cell in her body hummed for this moment. Draven’s hands massaged her breasts harder. His hips moved faster. He pressed a kiss over her pulse point.

Her heartbeat seemed to triple by that one act. She moved her hands up and gripped his hips, her nails digging into the skin. He growled low, the sound rough and dark as if it came from a shadowed place within him.

“Mine,” he whispered before biting down. Intense pain burst in the center of her chest. She released his hips and reached up to claw at his biceps as tears slipped down her cheeks. Her mouth dropped open in a wordless cry as the center of her world came down to that one act. The throbbing, pulsing ache turned into a hot thread of fire that burned through her, singeing her right down to her soul. The backs of her eyeballs felt hot. Her lips, fingertips and toes tingled. Fires exploded in small bursts through her body like fireworks. She shook as her cunt contracted.

Rose felt as if she balanced on a knife’s edge with darkness hovering just on the other side. The sensation of falling filled her as she screamed. Each tug of his lips pulled at something deep inside of her. He drank and drank and drank. The desire increased, multiplying tenfold until she sobbed. Their bodies continued to move. Her breasts slid against his chest. Electric strings shot straight to her core. Heat ebbed through her body as the orgasm welled up inside of her. The wave broke. She came on a cry, drowning in pleasure, pain, and darkness.

Draven released her neck and continued to thrust into her until he found his climax. Body straining, his cock thickened and pulsed inside of her as he came. He continued to thrust into her through it all. Rose collapsed on him, breathing hard. Her heart raced. She felt lightheaded. The edges of her vision became black.

“Rose?” Draven murmured. “Rose?”

“Hmm?” She lifted her head a small bit. It felt so heavy. It dropped back to his chest.

“Shit.” He struggled beneath her. She wasn’t sure why. It was so comfortable to lie there. Sleep tugged at her. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drift. The blackness closed in. Not afraid, she allowed it to cocoon her.

On her first night as a police officer, Sunny Ruffles takes down three felons…only to be attacked by a gang of vampires who are a whole new level of hurt.

Then a mysterious shadow man intervenes, saving Sunny before he disappears. She runs after him, telling herself her pursuit has nothing to do with his sharp, stubbled jaw, his powerful shoulders, or his sexy-as-hell, kissable lips.

Rescuing the humans makes Aiden Blackthorne late for a critical meeting with the vampire Nosferatu’s daughter. Yet clompy, bumbling Sunny draws him back like wild honey. He kisses her, and he’s almost got her down to her underwear when a bomb meant for him explodes.

The last thing Aiden wants is to drag Sunny into his hellish conflict with Nosferatu. But Aiden’s a loner whose only friend has mysteriously disappeared, and the woman who smells and tastes like his mate is the only backup he has left. He’ll need her, everything he is, everything he was—and everything he might have been—to defeat his evil master and claim the love he never dared hope to have.

Warning: This book contains shadowy assassins shooping off vampire heads, cops bumbling in at the worst of times, and opposites attracting, colliding, and exploding in lust—a.k.a., explicit fighting, humor, and sex.

I cleared my throat and widened my stance and thought tough cop thoughts. “What aren’t you telling me? Exactly how do you know Mace and his vampires—?”

“You didn’t see vampires.”

Already irritated with myself, that echoey voice rubbed me into sharp annoyance. I stomped into his personal space, slapped fists to my hips and glared up at him. “Do not tell me what I did or did not see.”

“Not vampires—”

“Shut. Up.”

He reared back with a frown. “You can’t tell me to shut up.”

“Who’s the cop here?” I scowled up.

He scowled down. “Who’s the midget here?”

“Why you…” I grabbed his ears to bring his head to my level and stun him speechless with my cop glare, a cross between Medusa and an ocular fist that I’d seen Elena do and practiced daily in the mirror until I knocked myself out with it.

But somehow when his face got within reach of my mouth I leaned up and he leaned down—and we fused lips. My tongue pried and he opened, and I was plunging as deep as I could get into hot male heaven. He tasted of espresso edged with cinnamon and danger; his scent enveloping me was just as spicy.

He groaned. His arms came around me, pulling me flush to him. I clutched his biceps, warm satin-covered rocks, and moaned into his mouth. As if it was a cue he crushed me to him, his embrace hot as a woodburner and his torso as hard as his biceps. Even through the thick wool of my cop carapace I felt every ridge of him.

I twined arms around his neck and pressed into him in return. I was shivery hot and melding with him instinctively, writhing and rubbing against him with primal need.

My undulating must have been another signal, because he began to take the lead. His tongue thrust powerfully into my mouth. I groaned and a ripple of sheer need ran the length of my body. I opened wider for him; his tongue filled me again and again.

That driving power was how he’d make love. At the thought, my sex drenched.

“Mmm. Your scent drives me wild.” He cupped the back of my head, holding me in position for deeper, more exotic tonguing and biting and licking. I whimpered. His passion was a direct wire from my mouth to my sex—one he lit like a fuse. Every flick of his tongue was a hot lick to my rising clit. Every thrust inside my mouth was a powerful surge into me. Every bite shivered along my skin and every suck was as if he had me on my back with my thighs clenching his head.

He slid a hand between us. It rubbed my uniform jacket against the tips of my breasts. The jacket was new, wool and too small, and I felt it even through shirt and bra. My nipples, already awake, sang out like they were joining the choir eternal.

I gasped, grabbed his ears and tried to tongue his tonsils. My leg lifted, instinctively trying to assume the position. I was small but forceful and usually ended up on top, but he was so tall I couldn’t rub my tortured bits against his unless he helped or I climbed him like a tree. If he would just slip his hands under my derriere and lift…

He had other things in mind. He undid every brass button on my jacket then shoved it aggressively off my shoulders. My arms fell from his neck and the jacket hit the pavement with a whump–clang. I barely cared, because he kept kissing and sucking as he worked at my blouse, flipping open buttons so fast one or two went plink onto the pavement.

The instant the shirt was open, he palmed both breasts through my lacy bra, with a sound like a hungry beast coming home to a hot plentiful dinner. I thrilled. My breasts surged into his hands with nearly the same sound. I dug fingernails into his scalp and rubbed my tits into his palms, his skin so hot, his hands so big and rough and exciting.

I was about to pull him somewhere secluded, like the cruiser’s backseat—some part of me knew Jonesy wasn’t due to wake for at least another five minutes—when an explosion rocked us both.

Bio:

As a girl, I spun romantic, happily-ever-after stories to get to sleep. A husband, two degrees, a blackbelt and a family later, I’m delighted to spin them for readers.

I’ve lived with love and loss, in bright times and dark, and learned we can all use a break from reality every now and then.

Middlemarch Mates – Twelve books about leopard shape shifters, set in small town Middlemarch.

Book Five: Cat and Mouse

Every woman has sexual needs. Lana Sinclair, feline shapeshifter and widow, is more than ready for a fun night with a likeminded male. Hot lovin’ is compulsory because she’s determined to scratch the itch that’s driving her crazy. This time, career-girl Lana is picking a malleable male who won’t try to corral her into the housewife role.

Fellow shifter Duncan Ross is the perfect candidate. The cowboy follows the rodeo circuit and is only in Middlemarch for the bull riding. One night of mutual seduction, slick, naked bodies and pleasure then he’ll be on his way.

Duncan is astonished when Lana propositions him, but no one could ever call him stupid. He’s always desired Lana and now that she’s ready for sex, he’s all action. It’s time to lasso the woman of his dreams with some sweet lovin’ and charm, a sexy massage and ropes spliced together with addictive pleasure. He’ll seduce her to his way of thinking—a permanent arrangement. This is one go-round Duncan is determined to win.

Excerpt

“I want a lover for the weekend.” She captured the plump cushion of her lower lip between her teeth and worried it while avoiding his gaze.

Consternation, fury, jealousy—the whole gambit screwed with his temper. “Do you do this often?” He found himself moving closer, curling his fingers around her biceps until they bit into her tender flesh.

Her gaze flew up to meet his. “No! Of course not. I haven’t been with anyone since Jamie.”

Duncan relaxed at her impassioned words. No other man. Good. That was good. It had been difficult leaving after Jamie’s funeral, knowing Lana needed time and he ran the risk of another man capturing her interest. Friends and family had kept him in the loop where Lana was concerned, not that he’d been upfront about his interest. A month ago gut instinct had told him it was time to return to New Zealand so he’d come home. Just in time, so it seemed. He stared down at her and detected a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He’d never noticed them before. Her jade green eyes tilted up at the corners giving her a faintly exotic look…and her mouth. He’d had some serious hard-ons fantasizing about her sexy lower lip, about biting it and laving the nip better, seeing those lips wrapped around his cock.

“Why?” Why him? He wanted to think it was because of his hard abs and charisma, his sex appeal, except his ego wasn’t that big. Women didn’t normally bowl up to him with a proposition before they’d received the romance, not unless they belonged to the buckle-bunny brigade and wanted to boast about their cowboy conquests.

“Because I don’t want to mislead a man into thinking I want something permanent. All I want is no-strings sex.” Her chin lifted in faint challenge. “That’s all.”

Duncan frowned, not sure how to react. Part of him simmered with anger at her for going around offering herself. That part wanted to wring her neck. But he also felt flattered and more turned-on than he should be, given the circumstances.

Lana turned away, flashing her rounded ass at him. He caught a hint of feminine pique before she showed him her back. A slow smile curled across his lips as he stared at the long, slender legs and curvy hips. Yeah, he’d take her up on her offer and play a cat-and-mouse game. Her offer simply made things easy for him, but if she thought he’d walk away after a weekend, the woman had rocks in her head. He wanted to retire from the rodeo circuit, settle down and breed bucking bulls. No, Lana belonged to him—she just didn’t know it yet.

Can’t attend GRL in Albuquerque this year? Yeah, me neither. I’m determined not to pout about that, though, and Selena Illyria (Etopia Press) has volunteered to help keep us smiling by donating time on her Yahoo Group. Authors will share deleted scenes, character interviews, book soundtracks, artwork and more while also conducting giveaways in the loop or on their blogs. It’s a chance for those of us stuck at home to still have some fun with our readers and favorite/new authors of LGBT fiction.
When

This is my pick for Monday. I’ve been listening to Pandora radio a lot lately. My stations vary depending on my mood. I can listen to everything from Christina Aguilera to Slipknot, from Melody Gardot to Five Finger Death Punch, from Classical to Enigma, from Maroon 5 to Disturbed from Anouk to Rodrigo y Gabriella. As I’ve said on a few occasions, I taste in music varies.

I was listening to Melody Gardot’s station when this song came on.

I can never remember the lyrics for the V and E line so I usually make up my own. :-). This song makes me nostalgic, for what I don’t know, I guess it has something to do with watching the Ken Burns Jazz docu-series.